


Part 3: Contingency

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Series: Restrooms Are For The Wicked [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Awkwardness, Crack, Desperation, Embarrassment, Episode: s02e16 Under the Radar, Episode: s03e02 Where There's a Will, Friendship, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: Not everything goes according to plan.
Series: Restrooms Are For The Wicked [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874236
Kudos: 7
Collections: WC²





	1. A Not So Dry Dock

Neal wasn’t a day drinker. It wasn’t because he absolutely needed to be 100% sober at work, Peter was his handler, not his Dad... _not even close_. At least that’s what he told himself.

Though his aversion to alcohol was work-related. Enough glasses would send him running to the bathroom every few minutes. After all, he wasn’t planning on holding it in.

_I’m screwed. Totally screwed. I am really_ **_really_ ** _screwed_... he thought nervously, gulping down the mysterious beverage Adler thrust at him.

Field ops were unpredictable enough in regards to breaks, it didn’t take a genius to guess what Adler wanted from him. He wanted to find the U-Boat. Less _unpredictable,_ more like suspended indefinitely. 

Neal counted himself lucky, that he’d already _gone_ to the restroom before going to the park. It gave him a few hours. Hopefully.

* * *

Apparently, Adler had already found the U-Boat. He needed Neal to break into it. A lengthy process, considering the time it took him to knock off Fort Knox.

“Any chance we could get some music?” he requested, needing the distraction. 

“I _had_ a box, but I lost it,” Vincent reminded him.

“Before you get us both killed, can I remind you; we are standing on a giant bomb,” Peter sighed. 

“Yeah, which requires a state of calm. I’m not feeling very _calm_ ,” Neal spat back.

They got past the first layer of TNT with Alex’s help, to encounter...more TNT. 

“Well, at least if this thing explodes, I’ll have an excuse,” Caffrey remarked.

He knew he hadn’t been working for very long...but that wasn’t counting the time he’d spent _unconscious_.

“For what?” Burke queried, confused.

Neal waved it off for the time being.

* * *

Peter opened crate after crate of priceless art. There were plenty that Neal hadn’t forged yet. Now he didn’t have to. Just a few seconds in their presence was worth more to him than money.

“You’d almost expect to see a Haustenberg or two,” Burke commented. 

Neal sighed, bending his knees and squeezing his thighs together. “Don’t mention _Haustenberg_ ,” he griped quietly.

“What have you got against Haustenberg all of sudden?” Peter remarked, bemused.

Caffrey spun around, crossing his legs. 

“It has been a _very_ long day. My _eyebrows_ are floating,” he stated. 

“You gotta pee?” Peter asked with mild concern. 

Neal blushed. “Yeah, and Adler can _still_ hear us so thanks for that!” he reminded him. 

“Does that mean you don’t want another glass?” Vincent asked, entering the sub. 

“Dying would make for _hell_ of an excuse,” he quipped. 

“So would being unconscious,” Neal snapped back, ripping the glass from his hand and nodding at Peter to take another as well. 

\-------------------------------

He ended up handcuffed on his back in a dry dock rapidly filling with water. Neal took solace in knowing that Burke understood why he was squirming, but Alex didn’t. So his hands, which could _theoretically_ be jammed between his legs, at least as much as he could manage from this position; were instead dedicated to getting him out of handcuffs, which he knew he was in no fit state to escape.

The sloshing was _highly_ non-conductive to his intention of holding it in. But, as his pants got wet with _water_...his bladder decided to add a little something else to the mix. He squirmed more aggressively, while spurts continued to flow out periodically.

He looked at Alex, spotting the key... _adjacent to_ her neck. 

Neal sighed. There was no other way. It was happening, with or without his consent. He chose the former. Shuffling just an inch further up, as if to approach Alex, Caffrey stopped holding back.

He kept his head down, wrangling with the handcuffs to avoid looking too suspicious while relieving himself.

* * *

“You okay?” Peter immediately asked, holding Neal’s anklet. 

“As long as I don’t catch a _cold_...” Caffrey quipped, shaking off his soaking legs.

“How you holding.. _on_?” he checked, wanting to keep his consultant out of pain.

“Brilliantly...if I had something to hold on _to_ ,” Neal admitted with a wide smile.

“Always a way out, huh,” Burke noted. 

“Hey, the fish do it all the time,” he argued in his defence.

Peter patted him and the shoulder, letting the matter to rest. It was beyond justified.

* * * * * * * * *

Agent Burke found some clothes for Neal to change into, back at the office. He sent the pants to the lab, to screen for anything nasty that could’ve gotten into them.

The guy in charge of examining, was quickly concerned, when he saw the colour of the liquid squeezed out of the garment. It was yellow. And no matter how murky water in a reservoir might look, _up close_ it is supposed to be clear...

A sample was siphoned from the canister, and an image appeared, showing the general look of the chemicals. The parts that weren’t water, seemed odd. Almost salty, despite there being no salt recorded at the scene by ERT. 

It was too blurry to compare to known toxins, so he had a list calculated, which he printed. Before picking up the paper from the back room, the lab technician was captivated by the second most prevalent compound shown on the screen. _Urea_. 

There was no question how _that_ got there. 

Jones entered, checking up on the research. 

“Got good news or bad news?” Clinton asked.

“I have...interesting news,” the man answered. “There were no traces of anything that shouldn’t be there...although that depends on your definition,”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re geeking over tadpoles?” Jones grumbled.

“No,” he pointed at the screen. “It detected excessive amounts of _uric_ acid and _urea_ ,” 

The latter was more familiar to the Demi-Suit than the former. 

  
“2 main components of _urine_? Neal pissed his pants?” he noted, puzzled. The scientist nodded.

“Appears so...which is quite natural if the circumstance was as hectic as I suspect,” 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Peter frowned at Jones as he entered his office. He was holding back laughter. 

“Watery stuff, salty stuff and a bunch of other stuff I can’t name,” he presented the document.

“Good. Now, tell where the punchline is,” Burke quipped, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, they also found urine. Got any clue how that got there?” Jones questioned, curious.

“Look, he was unconscious for a long time, _twice_. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Just leave it at that please,” Peter begged.

“Didn’t know Devore made _wet suits_ ,” he joked, but subsequently zipping his lip and saluting his superior. 

Agent Burke scanned the list, smirking at the reassuring number in the upper right corner. The volume. 

_He certainly doesn’t have to worry about breaking the seal,_ he mused. 

Or dehydration for that matter. No wonder it took so long to get the keys from Alex...


	2. Willing And Wriggling

Neal jiggled his shoulders in the red felt uniform. He couldn’t understand why anyone would _voluntarily_ wear that for hours on end.

It felt as if it itched in every nook and cranny of his body. His _crotch_ , for instance. 

“Fudge,” he muttered. He looked at his watch. He didn’t have time to look for a restroom, nor use one. 

At least it wasn’t too bad, he was pretty sure he could hold it just fine. The plan shouldn’t take too long. _Right?_

* * *

Lying down flat on the floor was not exactly the most comfortable position he could imagine right now, but at least there was room to bend his legs. He let his thighs be _very_ close together, vaguely hoping Mozzie wouldn’t question it. He didn’t.

Something was up with the page flipping mechanism, as it skipped the page they needed. He poked the wires together lightly. It skipped again, this time _backwards_. 

Moz assumed _Neal_ had screwed up somehow, which set him off.

“You want to come down here, and give it a shot, Bob Vila? Bring it,” he snapped, shuffling.

Eventually, they got the right page, and the right tool to drill through the glass. 

As soon as they’d done that; the book vaporised.

And...the alarm sounded. Great. Just great. 

_There goes the treasure map, and my window of opportunity to go to the bathroom,_ Neal despaired, sighing.

They grabbed the remains of the book, _just in case_ , and hurried outside. The first thing Caffrey spotted across the street wasn’t the getaway car. He’d forgotten all about that. There was a coffee shop. Coffee is a laxative. Ergo, it definitely had a restroom.

He had to go for it. _Just in case there was traffic._

“Alright, listen Moz; I just gotta run across the street real quick,” Neal informed his accomplice, rubbing his thighs.

Mozzie didn’t notice the action, and was supremely confused.

“What?! Why?!” he protested.

“I really need to go to the bathroom,” Caffrey elaborated plainly.

Haversham rolled his eyes. “You didn’t go before we left?” he was unimpressed with the royal stupidity.

“Well, I didn’t expect it to go poof and dissolve did I?!” Neal snapped back, stepping in place nervously and doing a light hop. 

“Okay, the longer we or _I_ stand here, the faster we’re gonna get caught, come on! I drive like a maniac most days,” he instructed, comfortingly.

* * *

Neal’s leg was jiggling fervently as the van careened in and out of traffic.

“I think we’re in the clear,” he noted, crossing his legs. 

“Not road-wise,” Moz grumbled.

“Can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but; do you have an empty bottle?” Neal asked, rolling his eyes at the chock-a-block in front of him.

“No,” he informed his friend, looking at him with sympathy. 

There was a small opening in the road, completely missed by the con man, who was closing his eyes and shifting in his seat. It was only mildly uncomfortable, but still not quite the ideal position to be in, during a _smooth_ escape.

Mozzie reeled to the right, and zipped forward through the gap. This way, he managed to find a spot to park outside yet another coffee shop.

“Voilà,” 

“Merci very much, mon ami,” Neal shouted, as he slapped the seatbelt off, and sprinted out of the car towards the restroom inside.

He did a little whistle in happiness as his bladder steadily emptied.

“Much better,” he sighed, looking down emphatically.

* * *

Peter was mad that Satchmo had gotten involved, though Satchmo didn’t blame either of them. He was preoccupied with eating the remaining bacon bits from Mozzie’s pocket.

“You’re lucky the planetarium can’t prosecute this now. Honestly, what were you thinking?” he barked.

“Time was of the essence, Peter,” Neal justified. 

“Are we still talking about the robbery?” Moz quipped, scratching Satchmo’s neck.

Neal glared at him and gestured for him to cut that particular line of dialogue.

Burke frowned. Caffrey cleared his throat.

“We can still get the treasure, and save Savannah. Gelles won’t harm her, and he wants the money bad enough to go along with whatever we tell him to do to get it,” he pointed out.

“Alright, let me just check the tracking data, make sure you didn’t make the Marshals suspicious,” Peter mentioned, sitting down at his desk. 

“That means he wants to see how many red lights you ran,” Neal remarked, raising an eyebrow towards Mozzie.

“Is that really necessary?” he tried to stop him. Problem wasn’t the speeding, rather the _stopping_. 

“Yes!” Burke shot him down, firing up the program. The time-lapse showed Neal in the getaway car, rushing through the streets, courtesy of Mozzie’s reckless driving. The Suit ached to revoke the man’s drivers licence, if only he knew his real name; or at the very least the one he was driving under.

It was a small blessing, that it didn’t seem like they drew any attention to themselves.

That is, until the little dot that was Neal inside the vehicle, stopped. Peter blinked, surprised. He’d seen the footage from the first time Caffrey ran outside his radius; this movement was considerably faster. 

He sat back in his chair, preparing to ferret an explanation out of his CI. 

Suddenly, Satchmo barked and whined, jumping on Peter playfully.

The pet was growing impatient, they realised. So, deciding to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, _this time_ , the agent took his dog home. 

* * * * * * *

At the end of the day, Satchmo had been fed something healthier for dinner, Savannah had been returned to her family, and they were selling a Degas.

“Look what they gave us instead of a warrant for your arrest,” Burke grinned, flashing tickets to the Tycho Brahe exhibit opening.

“Yeah, warrants always have the most boring fonts,” Neal remarked, bobbing giddily at the chance to see real things associated with the astronomer. Pieces that wouldn’t break into smaller pieces...

“It’s this Saturday at 8,” Peter stated. “And, by all means, try not to spend the whole evening like that,” he added, pointing at Neal’s hyperactive limbs. “After all, you know exactly where to _go_ ,” Burke smiled. 

“That I do,” Caffrey agreed. 

* * *

Neal arrived at the entrance to the museum looking dapper as always. He’d chosen a suit that didn’t hide his anklet, in part because Peter would be nearby so he could ignore the looks of people noticing it, and also to gloat to the staff, since he had robbed them earlier in the week and was traipsing through their various exhibits untethered. Almost.

“Couldn’t find a waistcoat for Satchmo? He’d look great in _tails_ ,” he joked, hugging Elizabeth.

“Very funny, Ventura,” Peter got in on the cuddles. 

“Owww!!” Caffrey winced, shaking his now _sore_ hand. 

“Don’t put your hand in the cookie jar if you can’t handle being smacked by the lid,” Burke commented, waving the anklet key. 

“You don’t even need handcuffs, just your _Magic Hands_ ,” Neal whimpered.

El directed the conversation back to the festivities. 

“Do you want to do stargazing, or just wander around a bit first?” she asked.

“Sitting down in the dark is great for insomnia. I vote we get some light exercise,” he suggested. Peter agreed.

He was walking towards the staircase when Elizabeth spoke again.

“Oh, Neal, before we get a move on; you want to use the restroom first?”

He inspected the inner workings of his suit, and determined that he felt comfortable.

“I’m good,” Caffrey turned down the offer. 

Peter pressed his lips together gently, intervening.

“You didn’t go back at the house when we left,” he pointed out.

“It hasn’t been long, Peter,” Neal assured him, turning around.

“It’s a good idea, Neal. No use going all the way down again later,” El reasoned with a smile.

“And no harm in _trying_ , at least,” Peter nudged.

He relented. 

Burke accompanied him down the hall. 

* * *

Neal looked around for signs, stopping. 

“It looks different at night,” he remarked, to cover up his confusion.

“You can check behind that alcove; or I can just check the tracking data,” Peter suggested. 

“Let’s start with the alcove,” Neal decided quickly, walking ahead again. 

Fortunately, the hunch was correct. Both hunches actually. It didn’t take long, but the younger man did get a spray or two out of himself in the process.

* * *

While Neal was admiring what was probably art to him, Peter got curious.

Caffrey had committed several of his suspected crimes in the dark. That shouldn’t be a problem. Nor should he have an issue with his tracking data. He knows he’s being tracked, that’s not news. He’d never been uncomfortable with that before. 

Turning around, Agent Burke opened the app on his phone, and summoned the record for the time of the heist, this time inside the building. 

The events spoke for themselves. The dot representing Neal went straight up to where the book was. Peter guessed it was due to the time frame of their less than successful scheme. 

He gasped. Now the running out of the car made sense. Peter nodded to himself and went to follow Neal to the next exhibit.

“You really weren’t thinking when you pulled off that heist, were you?” he commented. 

“What makes you say that?” Neal replied, mildly indignantly.

“If you had given it an iota of forethought, you would’ve taken what your body was telling you at face value, and used the restroom beforehand,” Peter told him. 

Neal rolled his eyes. _Damn it_.

“You wouldn’t have needed to stop at that coffee shop. Or gotten lost tonight,” he smirked.

“How was I supposed to know how long it would take? That the book was fake?” Caffrey pointed out. 

“You’re a forger,” Burke reminded him.

“I could match the tricolour seal by eye, I can’t tell if something is a forgery if it’s made by someone else. The point is to hide that fact from law enforcement _and_ potential snitches,” Neal explained.

“You’re the most meticulous man I know. You usually plan for every eventuality,” Peter noted.

“You can’t prepare for an eventuality that doesn’t exist. I was _biding my time_ , but... lost the auction,” Caffrey remarked. 

“So, this all boils down to _you didn’t need to go then_ ,” he smiled.

“Yeah,” Neal confirmed awkwardly.

“Hey, every heist has one puzzle piece you _can’t_ predict; the element of _surprise_ ,” Peter stated humorously.

  
“Actually you can. It’s called a contingency,” the con man corrected.

“Hmm. I see. You might wanna add one to your list,” Burke quipped.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go, even during a job. It’s usually not a problem. It was a calculated risk,” Neal stated.

“Right. Well, you forgot to carry the _one_ ,” Peter noted with a smirk. 

“Okay that’s it, you’re going down,” Caffrey warned. He came up behind his handler and promptly tickled his neck. The Suit fell to pieces laughing. 

“Neal’s spot is under his right collarbone,” El supported her husband, who followed the advice. 

Both men ended up on the floor, giggling.

“Truce?” Peter asked. Neal nodded. “Stargazing?” he asked. Peter nodded.


End file.
